Hygge
by shockwavecatalyst
Summary: hygge [noun] a complete absence of anything annoying or emotionally overwhelming; taking pleasure from the presence of gentle, soothing things. "Ryou Bakura isn't sure why, but he just knows that today will be interesting."


Ryou Bakura isn't sure why, but he just knows that today will be interesting. It's not the usual downpour of rain that tells him, nor his roommate hogging the bathroom. It's something different- some otherworldly feeling in the depth of his gut, nagging away at him. Today will be interesting, for once. He's certain.

Malik gives him a funny look as he glides out of the bathroom, as graceful and elegant as ever. Something about the look on his face makes Ryou uneasy.

"Are you alright?"

His voice resounds in Ryou's ears as he slowly rethinks the question over and over until it doesn't sound like a proper phrase. "Of course I'm alright," he says with a light, twinkling laugh, "why wouldn't I be?"

Across the room the dark skinned boy shrugs, sliding his arms into a tight fitting leather jacket. Ryou sighs and strides to the bathroom. Sometimes he likes to think that he's as graceful and catlike as he used to be- or, never actually was.

Stopping in front of the mirror, he stared at his reflection with an unimpressed look on his face. He no longer wondered why Malik had asked if he was feeling okay. He looked ill- his usual pale complexion had taken on a new snowy greyish white, and deep bags hung under his eyes making them look sunken and exhausted. Even his eyes look lifeless and dark, masked by too-thick eyelashes that make him look far more feminine than he would like.

From the other room Malik shouts at him to hurry up, so he hastily grasps at a hair tie and pulls his hair up into a lazy half-bun. He goes to turn away from the mirror, only to stop dead. In his peripheral vision the image reflected by the mirror seems different- but not unfamiliar. Ryou sighs unhappily, and hits the light switch on his way out.

x

Ryou hates college. It's so average- so mundane. For the hundredth time he tells himself that he just isn't used to it yet. He's been saying the same thing since high school.

The one class he enjoys is psychology. It's interesting and nobody knows him- almost. The first time he had stepped through the doors- apathetic with a dreary look on his face- he had been surprised to see a familiar black haired male, Otogi.

The taller man had waved him over to the table he sat and, and Ryou just sort of got comfortable being around him. It wasn't even that he felt comfortable- he felt comforted. Otogi _knew_ him- knew everything there was to know, and still sat by the moody white haired boy every single day.

Today was no different as Ryou took his seat at a table near the front, letting his books drop in a heap next to Otogi's. Nothing was out of the ordinary. How dull.

From across the room, Ryou spotted a girl making eyes at him. When she saw that he had noticed her she sent him a sloppy wink and gave him a look that made him want to vomit. It wasn't that she was unattractive- by most people's standards she would be, but something about the women on campus, he found absolutely revolting.

x

At one pm, he makes the executive decision to skip literature. Their current book was a bore and the teacher made his head hurt.

He takes his camera, and he walks to the beach. The water is clear blue, shimmering and sparkling in the sunlight. He stares absent-mindedly at the world reflected from the liquid abyss, everything looking as though it was being shown through a distorted mirror.

Pulling his camera out, he turns it on. _It's a beautiful day for pictures_, he remarks to himself as he stares out at the scene in front of him. He snaps a few photos, ones he believes are really quite good.

After a while, he feels a light tap on his shoulder. He lowers the camera from his eye, and turns to face the individual who had interrupted him.

His heart lurched in his chest, and he felt sick to his stomach. Much like the way the water reflected a twisted view of the world, a very similar looking man stood in front of him, gazing at him with dull black eyes.

"It's been a while," the man speaks clearly, his voice dragging out in an elegant manner, "Ryou."

The way his name drops from his lips so casually makes him want to vomit. Ryou fights to force his brain to restart thinking coherently, instead of a jumble of why and how.

"You were gone," he chokes violently on the words, his voice sounding hoarse and unpleasant, "They got rid of you! You were **gone**!"

Tears bubble in his eyes threatening to drop and his throat feels dry and scratchy. His heart races at a mile a minute and he vaguely wonders if he's about to have a heart attack. He gives one last feeble attempt to calm himself down before tears slowly drip down his cheeks.

In front of him the man sighs and shakes his head, reaching out for the virtually identical boy, and pulling him into his arms. Without a thought, Ryou wraps his arms around him, grasping violently at the fabric of his shirt and burring his head in the crook of his neck.

"Landlord, shh, everything is alright," he says, stroking the sobbing boys hair, "I am here now."

"Why did you leave, Bakura!" Ryou shouts breathlessly, choking and gasping to steady his erratic breathing, "You left me all alone here!"

Bakura pulls back from him enough to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. "I am sorry, Landlord," he whispers in a tone so low that it is barely audible, even to Ryou, "But we can be together now, forever."

Ryou pulls away from him and looks at him curiously, but the other boy just takes him by the hand and draws him closer to the water.

"Look at how nice the water looks today, Landlord,"

Ryou's heart skips a beat and suddenly, in a moment of complete clarity, he realizes what Bakura is trying to say. And he panics.

He wouldn't lie and say he hadn't thought of killing himself before, but he always hesitated because he never really had a reason to. But here was Bakura, in the flesh, telling him that they would never have to part.

And the end would certainly come so fast.

"Landlord," he says softly, "let us jump together."

Hands still clasped tight, the pair of white haired boys plummet into the icy water waiting below them. Ryou opens his mouth automatically, trying to gasp for air in reaction to the temperature. He finds no air, only frigid water.

Bakura is gone and Ryou thrashes violently against the ocean, flailing his limbs in an attempt to push himself to the surface. His lungs burn and he's cold. _So cold._

His body feels heavy. Looking up, he can see the sun twinkling on the waters surface, taunting him. His limbs ache and his blood feels as though it's on fire.

In his mind, if he listens closely enough, he can hear Bakura whispering words of encouragement to him. He tells him not to fight it. To just let death come.

And so Ryou does.


End file.
